


Untying the Knot

by TheYmp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Be Careful What You Wish For, Domestic, M/M, Oppressive Patriarchy, Patriarchy, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26441647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYmp/pseuds/TheYmp
Summary: Dean is mortally wounded, so Sam uses a wish pearl to save him, but instead they're whisked off to a very alternate world. At first, all seems great, but then their bodies and minds start to adapt to match the new reality. Will they accept the cost of the changes or risk trying to get back home?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Untying the Knot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JDL71](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=JDL71).



> Written for the 2019 SPN_BigPretzel Spring Fic Exchange on LiveJournal. JDL71's prompts were:
> 
>   * _Dean has been hurt on a hunt and is delirious. Aside from wanting to pet Sam's hair, he keeps telling Sam he's the best husband in the world._
>   * _Dean and Sam find themselves in a new reality where they aren't brothers, but a married couple that own a bar._
>   * _Sam and Dean aren't only brothers but a mated pair with Sam as the alpha and Dean as his omega. What kind of trouble can this cause for them_?
> 

> 
> **Warning:** no one comes to any physical harm but, about half-way-through, there's a brief threatening scene with a delivery driver before he's chased off.
> 
> Images by JDL71

**_"Those teeth are just for show. Underneath your scales and open wounds, you're so symmetrical" - 'Dear', Wednesday's Wolves_ **

~#~

Sam was all about the research. As far he was concerned the first part of any battle was with a book.

'Forewarned is forearmed' was a motto very close to his heart, no more so than now when it was written in his brother's blood. And, as he eased his brother into a more comfortable position, he realized that's _exactly_ what he now had on his hands.

"You always take such good care of me," slurred Dean. The black lines spidering up his neck and across his face testified to the progress of the poison spreading through his veins.

Guilt spiked through Sam's heart. "Hush," he ordered. "Save your strength, you need to rest."

"No," complained Dean, struggling and failing to lift himself up. "We need to gank that scorpion sonuvabitch."

"It was a _chimera_ ," corrected Sam, morosely. "I took care of it," he added, making it sound like a small thing. It had taken every ounce of strength to defeat the fire-breathing, sharp-clawed, poison-tailed beast, but then he was the one who'd insisted they only needed to bring hand mirrors to the fight. _Sheesh_ , he'd been so sure they were dealing with a cockatrice.

Dean face split into a woozy, poison-sozzled grin. "I'm so lucky. You're like the best husband ever... Nah, in the whole _world_."

Sam blinked in surprise. "No, Dean, it's me, Sam," he replied, worrying that the toxins in the creature's sting had reached his brother's brain much faster than he'd estimated.

Dean chuckled. "Nah, you can't be," he objected as he reached up and started to pet Sam's hair. " _You're_ a big man, and Sammy... well, he's just a little kid, silly!"

Sam knew it was stupid, and just the feverish ramblings of the poison, but the words cut deep. Normally he tolerated _that_ _name_ from Dean as an expression of love, something not meant as a put-down. But now it felt dismissive, like he was once more back as the shy, awkward kid, too small for his age, who so desperately needed approval.

Dean meanwhile had continued with his rambling monologue of devotion. "An' you're so _big_ , an' so _brave_ , an' you take real good care of me... an' I really, _really_ love you! You _gotta_ be my husband!"

Stunned for words, Sam stoically put up with his hair being stroked.

"An' you're _so_ handsome, with pretty hair like a girl," Dean sighed.

Death defining moments or not, there were some limits that you just don't cross. "Yeah? Well, you _like_ girls," snapped Sam. He didn't know why he felt so cross -- and he certainly wasn't intending to interrogate those feelings -- especially considering the more important matters at hand.

Dean sniggered and wriggled in closer. "I like you more!" He stuck his nose into Sam's neck and drew back with a faint noise of disgust. "You normally smell nicer, though," he grumbled, before his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back to the ground. A strange rattle echoed from his throat, and he seemed to be gasping for breath.

At first, Sam assumed Dean was choking and he fussed over his brother trying to get him into the recovery position. He ran his hands through his hair in anxiety as the reality of the situation became clear, now missing the feel of his brother's earlier gentle touch. Things were desperate: they were miles from any help, with Jack and Castiel worlds out of reach dealing with who knows what kind of threat from the Empty. Unless there was some kind of miracle pretty damn soon, Dean was going to die.

_Miracle. Of course. Sheesh, sometimes I'm so stupid._

They had magic they'd been saving for exactly this sort of eventuality; for when things got truly desperate. A mythic pearl that made your heart's wishes come true. He rummaged in the depths of Dean's pockets until he located it, a twin to the one they'd once unwittingly used to summon their Dad to the present.

_And to think I told Dean not to keep bringing it with him everywhere we went._

Even though last time things hadn't gone as expected, and they'd ended up canceling the wish, Dean had still insisted it was as good a backup plan as they could ever hope to have. As if telepathically aware, Dean's eyes flickered open. He looked lost until his gaze found Sam again.

"You always take care of me," he sighed, before coughing up blood.

 _Dammit_. Sam had nothing to lose. He held the pearl in the palm of his hand. "Okay, let's do this."

As if on cue, Dean started to convulse and his skin took on a pale, greyish sheen.

Sam panicked as he realized his mind had gone blank while he possibly only had seconds to save his brother's life. The words, when they came, flew from his mouth without conscious thought. "I wish that Dean and I were happy, healthy, and together back home."

Dean's eyes snapped open and he grabbed Sam tight by the hand in a crushing grip. "See? You always take care of me."

The world turned to darkness.

~#~

The world came into sharp focus.

 _Too sharp_.

Sam scrambled to his feet, everything seemed neon bright and hyperreal. He stumbled, his body felt wrong and top heavy, knocking his balance off.

 _Where was Dean?_ He felt his brother's absence as a desperate ache in his chest. His nose twitched at the many unusually strong scents wafting around him. He closed his eyes and breathed deep.

 _Wow_. It was an explosion of aromas, a universe of smell spreading about around him. One warm, comforting scent stood out beyond all the others, overlaid as it was with notes of whiskey and gunpowder.

 _Dean_. He knew it intuitively, his body thrumming with the knowledge of it.

"Awake at last," called Dean, walking across the room and now standing in front of him as if nothing had happened.

Sam felt a thrill of possessive relief. His brother looked good, healthy, and hale. _Mine_ , he growled.

He stopped, unsure if he'd spoken aloud and confused by what had just possessed him. He was buffeted by strange emotions that were overpowering in their intensity. He'd never experienced anything like it. He shook his head to clear it. It was somehow easier just to focus on Dean.

His brother's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Look at this place," he crowed, arms out wide as he turned in place to survey their surroundings. "It's like my dream bar come true!"

Sam snorted, glad to be focusing on something he could understand. It was a common fantasy, albeit one Dean only brought up from time-to-time. When they'd hoped to block off Hell, Dean had waxed lyrical about running his own bar. A small place where, ripping off the tag line to _Cheers_ , 'everybody knows your name.'

Sam had his concerns about an accompanying slip into alcoholism, especially given his brother's known proclivities, but maybe he would give him the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, for once maybe the situation where they felt compelled to drink to forget might not arise. _We live in hope_ , he snorted to himself.

"No, really, look at this," enthused Dean, clearly taking Sam's wool-gathering as lack of interest.

Okay, so with the weapons lining the walls -- although in this instance firmly bolted to their display cases -- it did bear a certain resemblance to Dean's room in the bunker. Even down to all the framed photos of them with friends and family.

 _Huh?_ "This is us," Sam stated dumbly, staring at picture after picture of him and Dean looking young and _happy_ all the while locked together in cheerful embraces.

Or, _not_ us," said Dean, cryptically. "Maybe, this is more like another of those 'other world' kinda deals."

Sam had to agree they did look _very_ happy in those photos. _And buff_. His counterpart in this world very clearly put in a decent amount of gym time.

 _Bet I could still bench more_ , he sniffed to himself. Although, there was also something else 'off' about all those contented poses that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Holy shit!" cried Dean, now out of sight and in another room.

Despite the words sounding full of awe, rather than fear, Sam still felt his heart pound with anxiety as he realized Dean had wandered off and away from his protection. He sprinted into a back office, the source of the sound.

When Sam arrived in the room, his brother seemed to be staring off into space.

"What is it?" Sam asked. His eyes were drawn to a large, framed photo on the desk. It showed both him and Dean dressed in tuxedos, with Sam resting a firm, commanding hand on his brother's shoulder, pulling him in tight towards his body. Their expressions were joyful, but Dean's was also downcast in something more soft and demure. Sam gestured at the picture with an amused snort. "It almost looks like we're-"

"-married," gasped Dean, pointing to another frame. This one was hung on the wall and held a fancy, official-looking document.

Sam's eyes scanned the... _certificate of marriage_ , even as he struggled to take in the details. _Nope, that is definitely my name_.

"Oh, I'm not a Winchester," said Dean in a small, disappointed voice.

According to the document, the Dean here -- wherever 'here' was -- appeared to be a 'Smith', and both of he and other-Sam had what looked like a different Greek letter written after their name.

"But it looks like 'you' took it later," said Sam consolingly, after a cursory glance at the invoices and other correspondence piled up on the office desk. For some reason, the thought of even an 'other' Dean taking his name sent a warm, thrilling tingle through Sam's body. It felt good and strangely comforting.

Dean gave him an odd look and slapped his arm in jest. "Did you just growl, you weirdo?"

Sam shrugged and again there was a sense of his body not feeling quite like his own. "Maybe, I dunno," he mumbled. He still felt strange, but it also just felt _right_.

He was saved from further introspection by the sound of keys turning in the front door of the bar.

"Guys?" called a female voice. Sam and Dean looked at each other in surprise, both immediately recognizing it as Charlie. A moment later, she poked her head around the door.

"Oh, it _is_ you," she sighed, laying a baseball bat and a large set of keys on the table. "I thought you were going out?" She frowned at their blank expressions before prompting. "For your anniversary dinner?"

Dean gave Sam an awkward look and cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah. I guess we felt like a night in instead?"

She gave Dean a warm, knowing smile and squealed as she pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'm so happy for you. _Congratulations_."

"Er, yeah," continued Dean a little confused.

Charlie stopped and narrowed her eyes. "Oh! You've not had an argument have you?"

"Of course not," said Sam, feeling defensive and as if he was being accused of some great wrongdoing. However, Charlie seemed mollified by his words and moved closer to him, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder. Sam was struck at how oddly deferential she seemed with him. Still, he guessed she was closer to Dean -- they'd always had a closer bond -- in their own universe, at least.

"You don't look quite yourself," she agreed. "I've got something in my bag if you need it?"

True to form, Dean started to hover at the thought that Sam might be unwell. "I'm sure he'll be fine after some rest," he countered when Sam shook his head.

"I bet - you two are insatiable!" leered Charlie. "Now go have some alone time, I've got it covered. It's not like anything much ever happens on a Tuesday, anyway!"

~#~

The living quarters upstairs were small but cozy. Anywhere else he was sure he'd have felt claustrophobic, but something about the place pinged as home in Sam's brain. He felt... _safe_.

"It feels wrong to be going through someone else's private stuff," commented Dean, flipping idly through what even Sam recognized as an impressive vinyl collection.

Sam shrugged, barely hiding his irritation at Dean's lack of engagement. Dean could be emotional, no matter how much he might deny it, or the clumsy way he sometimes showed it, but they both knew he was ruled by his heart. Still, it wasn't like Dean to let it get in the way of a hunt.

"Think of it as a case," he growled. "Imagine _them_ as really _us_ , just so long as we find out everything we can about this place and who we are."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Jeez, who made you the boss of me?" he muttered good-naturedly but nonetheless proceeded to do as he was bid, and moved on to poking through the contents of what was clearly a junk drawer.

Sam didn't respond. He hadn't counted on the outcome of his wish being this complicated. _Who knows how much more bizarre this world might be? Foolish to expect anything else_ , he considered, _given the way things usually go for us_. Still, he hadn't been in the greatest state of mind at the time, and he suspected there was a bunch of subconscious issues at play. He didn't doubt that they'd _all_ benefit from some concentrated therapy. _But between one apocalypse and another, where was the time?_

Still, for now, the main concern at the forefront of his mind was that reversing the wish to send them back home might also undo healing Dean's injuries from the chimera. He knew his brother. He knew that Dean wouldn't hesitate to send them back regardless of the consequences if Sam was less than enthused with this new reality. _I just need to man up and be what Dean needs_ , he thought.

He looked around the room, blindly running his hand through his hair, as he tried to figure out his next move. He felt the weight of the world settling on his shoulders.

 _I need to do research_ , he realized, turning to the old, battered laptop on the desk, and started a search.

"Boy, this place is _weird_ ," he declared after some time. He forced a laugh, although the sound was dry and harsh and without much humor. "I've had to check a couple of times that I was looking at legit sites and not some kind of role play," he explained, shaking his head in bewilderment.

Without being asked, Dean immediately made his way over from where he had been poking around. Leaning in close to peer at the screen, he casually draped an arm around the back of Sam's chair. Sam could feel the heat of the contact even through the layers of their clothes. It was hot, in both senses of the word and certainly burned itself into his consciousness.

Sam's nostrils flared and he automatically drew in a deep lungful of air, subconsciously leaning further back towards the amazing, heady scent that surrounded him. A pleasurable tingle traveled down his spine and shot straight to his groin. He had to swallow around a mouth now full of saliva. "Are you... wearing a new cologne?"

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Unless you mean _eau de stink_." He pulled a grimace. "I could _really_ use a shower. So, can you get on with telling me how messed up this place is?"

Sam shook his head in a vain attempt to dismiss the unbidden, mental image of water flowing over Dean's naked, soaped-up body; he was definitely finding it difficult to concentrate. He cleared his throat and surreptitiously adjusted himself, pushing down on both the thoughts and the physical reaction. "Well, there are alphas-" he started as he launched into a summary of his findings.

"So, is this like a gender identity thing?" asked Dean after a moment.

Sam looked at his brother in open-mouthed amazement.

"Hey, I have a _Tumblr_ ," declared Dean. "You're not the only one who's _woke_ , you know."

 _Could this day get any more strange?_ Sam wondered. Falling back on tried and tested patterns of behavior, he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease. "You _do_ know everyone says _Tumblr's_ dead now?" he smirked. "But yeah, I think it's a physical manifestation of gender hierarchy. _Maybe_." He sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Honestly? I don't really know _what_ they are."

"Well, I've been through all their belongings, and they certainly _weren't_ hunters," Dean said. "They clearly didn't have time for it," he added with a caustic mutter, casting a reddening expression back toward the bedroom.

Sam frowned. "Yeah, running a bar must be a full-time job for them." Sore from leaning over the laptop, he gave out a low groan as he flexed and stretched out the muscles in his arms and neck, grimacing at the small popping noises.

Dean was staring at him with another strange expression. This was more slack-jawed than before - honestly, he looked a little stunned. Sam's chest tightened at the thought there might be some residual harm not picked up by the spell. He fought the urge to run his hands over Dean's body: _to look for injuries, obviously. Although, perhaps the damage was mental?_

"You know what, I'm beat," stammered Dean. "Let's hit the hay and pick this up fresh tomorrow."

Sam agreed with a flood of relief and led the way to the tiny bedroom.

The bed filled the room. Of course, if their counterparts were married, it made sense there was only one. Certainly, the sofa in the other room was too small to be suitable for sleeping on. He and Dean had shared a bed many times over the years. There was no reason they couldn't again, he tried to convince himself.

He paused.

"What's in the box?" He had a really bad feeling about it.

Dean blushed and pushed the large cardboard box further back under the bed with one foot.

"Nothing you need to see before getting into bed with me."

Sam started to speak before his brain caught up. He could feel his face burn with embarrassment as he belatedly realized the likely contents based on Dean's earlier comments.

He had to admit to being more than a little curious, but to be honest, he was already a little squicked out just at the thought of using his double's toothbrush.

Stammering excuses under Dean's amused gaze, he fled for the temporary relief of the bathroom, making quick work of his ablutions. Stripping down to undershirt and boxers, he slipped into the bed. He sighed at the simple pleasure of relaxing tired muscles against cool, clean cotton sheets. He could hear the distant sound of water, as Dean freshened up, and his mind wandered to the lascivious thoughts of earlier and then in turn to the box. It was like it was calling to him.

 _A quick peek won't hurt_ , he told himself, plus he could still hear the sound of the shower from the other room. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he pulled the box out into view. It was heavier than he'd expected. Casting a quick, nervous glance to the doorway, he lifted the lid.

His brain couldn't process what he saw. The range of _implements_. Their size. The sparkly, purple color. _Oh my god._

Of course Dean was standing in the doorway, squeaky clean and naked but for a thin towel wrapped around his waist. Still damp from his shower, his skin glistened like gold in the room's warm light.

"See something you like?" Dean drawled, an amused smirked stretched across his face.

Sam choked. _He never was any good at witty rejoinders_ , his mind supplied, _but that was bad even by his standards_ \- confirmed by the way Dean's skin reddened as he belatedly realized how his words could be misconstrued given his current state of undress.

Annoyed, Dean turned his back on Sam and concentrated instead on rummaging through the drawers for some clean clothes.

"I guess our doubles in this world are quite adventurous in _other_ ways," said Sam, his mind still trying to cope with the oddness of it. He shoved the box back under the bed, thereby disproving the old adage 'out of sight, out of mind'. To add even further to his confusion, Sam now found he couldn't look away from Dean's ass as he dressed. Although that was more a case of _not willing to_ rather than _not able to_.

"Ew, it's weird enough wearing their underwear, I can't imagine them using their other stuff," Dean grumbled, with a final wiggle that threatened to overload Sam's already overwhelmed brain.

"I don't want to think about it," groaned Sam, throwing himself back on the bed with his arms thrown dramatically over his face before discretely rolling onto his side.

"Funny, that seems to be _all_ you're thinking about," Dean teased. "Besides, I reckon they were the other Sam's; everyone knows you college types are all into weird experimentation."

"Just go to sleep, already," ordered Sam, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, boss," Dean snorted. "Y'know, you _are_ really bossy suddenly," he chided and mockingly clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

Sam didn't deign to reply. Regardless of if the words were in jest or not, he found himself quite pleased by Dean's judgment, and he slipped into a satisfied slumber.

~#~

Sam awoke sure of two things. First, he seriously needed to piss like it was going out of fashion, second that he'd never been so hard in his life. The thought had barely formed when his pelvis moved almost of its own accord, rutting once more against... _Ah, those aren't pillows_.

At some point in the night, it seemed he'd aggressively spooned his brother face-down on the bed until he was practically on top of him. Despite his mortification, he couldn't stop himself from burying his nose further into the nape of Dean's neck and breathing in. _Oh boy, that was a seriously bad idea_. It took all his willpower not to start thrusting. Feeling shaky, he very carefully edged his way back to his own side of the bed. Dean groaned and shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake.

Lying on his back, now painfully aware of the distance between their bodies, Sam rubbed his face, trying to regain some semblance of sanity and control. _What is wrong with me?_

They'd fooled around when Sam had hit late teens, despite Dean's initial reluctance. To his shame, Sam had discovered he could be a persistent little shit when he felt horny, capable of manipulating his brother into doing what he wanted. Turns out two young men placed in constant danger and given no other outlets eventually turned to each other for some form of release.

It was just another way for Dean to take care of him, Sam suspected; he was sure his brother had even used those actual words. Then Sam had gone off to Stanford and that had been the end of it. There'd been only the occasional hook-up with faceless young men or women until he'd met Jess. It had been different after she died, only the stint of soullessness revealing the strength of his sex drive and how much he'd been repressing it.

Talking of which, this was really not helping the giant case of morning wood that was showing no signs of abating. He slipped out from the bed and crept at speed to the bathroom before he burst. As he took care of business, he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink.

_Woah, I'm looking pretty buff._

Feeling pleased with himself and only a little bit silly, he flexed and posed, reveling in the joy of his own body. He ran a hand down the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, all the while admiring the movement and bulk of his muscles.

He glanced further down. _Seems a shame to waste it_.

In his mind's eye, he could picture his perfect companion: strong and fertile, and ready and willing for mounting. He snorted at the odd wording in his head that was almost enough to jolt him from the fantasy, but it was so clear, he could almost see their face. As he neared release, the imaginary body beneath his turned to reveal their identity.

It was Dean. _Of course, it was always Dean._ With that, he found his long overdue, shuddering climax.

Fearing discovery, Sam stepped into the shower. The water pouring over his body washed away the evidence of his actions until it was like it had never happened.

_Maybe today would be a good day after all._

~#~

 _It had been a good week_ , Sam considered.

Dean had been right; the bar was a joy. Tucked, as it was, away from the main center of town, their clientele seemed to run more to regulars, rather than passing trade, and it was strange how many he recognized as hunters from their own world. Here, there seemed to be no such thing, proved as much by the fact they were actually all still alive in the first place. Still, it helped lend the place more of a homely feel than a business.

Definitely more _Cheers_ than _Cocktail._

It was also hard work, although his role was apparently limited to heavy lifting and standing guard over the door, but it had helped Sam distract himself from his recent lascivious thoughts about his bro-

 _...my husband_ , his mind interrupted and corrected.

But both of them would have been lost if it hadn't been for Charlie. She was an absolute godsend every time they weren't sure about something. True, at first she had seemed suspicious and a little cold with him, which made him question their friendship in this world, but she had soon warmed in the charmingly natural way she had.

It made him wonder if perhaps the Sam in this world was a bit of an asshole. Which, being the worry-wort that he was, then made him anxious that it was something that was also part of him too.

_I'm not an asshole, am I?_

He blushed as he realized he'd spoken the words aloud.

Charlie chuckled as she weaved her way back in the direction of the bar with a tray of empty glasses. "No, but I guess it does tend to go with the territory. And the patriarchy is already bad enough without all the alpha bullshit on top." Belatedly she seemed to realize who, or rather _what_ , she was speaking to and pulled an apologetic face. "No offense."

"None taken," chuckled Sam. It made it easier given that he was still struggling to comprehend he now lived in a world where humans were descended from wolves and not apes.

"Who are you and where is the real Sam Winchester?" Charlie asked wondrously. "You seem _so_ much more sociable, plus we're definitely getting more return custom without all the _grr-argh_ ," she added, using her hands to mine teeth and claws.

Once again, Sam wondered what kind of asshole his double must have been for his sitting-staring-off-into-space act to be taken as a ringing endorsement for social adjustment.

"But you _are_ all right?" Her voice was now pitched low. She didn't sound sure.

"Yes," replied Sam with more than just an edge of exasperation. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

Charlie paused for a long moment as some calculation went on behind her eyes. "Sudden weight loss, drastic changes in behavior," she explained, her words coming fast and her expression dropping into something grim. "You guys are my best friends. I'd be lost without you. I'm not blind; I know you and Dean have had your issues recently."

Sam had the sense that she was talking about a time before his and Dean's arrival in this world.

"And I know you had a tough time growing up and that's affected your outlook on kids," she continued. "But you have to remember that as an omega, Dean's gonna have his own impulses."

That thought and its implication had Sam rocking back and slipping from his stool in shock.

Charlie pulled a face. "Sorry, I know you've always struggled with the whole societal expectations on you to keep breeding, and I don't mean to add to that."

 _My double didn't want kids?_ Sam had always wanted children; he'd felt so cheated when Jack had magically gone from baby to young adult. He'd been robbed of providing that upbringing, even though at the time he'd known it was for the best. _But in a world without hunters or monsters..._

"...you two are meant to be together," continued Charlie.

"Yeah?" asked Sam, amused despite himself.

"Of course!" snorted Charlie. "Everyone can tell from just the way he looks at you."

Unbidden, Sam's gaze was drawn across the room to where Dean was deep in conversation and simultaneously serving three different patrons. Without missing a beat, Dean looked up from what he was doing and sent Sam a quick wave, a wink, and a cheeky grin before returning to what he was doing.

"I'll give you a clue," said Charlie softly. "It's the way you're looking at him now."

~#~

"So Charlie's mentioned to me that she thought you'd lost weight," said Dean around a mouthful of toothpaste. It was a typical Dean move; giving the appearance of casual indifference while trying to be inconspicuous about studying Sam with hawk-like intensity via his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. "We did have a chat about that a couple of days ago. One of several things she mentioned, actually," he added with a snort at the memory of the intrusive interrogation much like the one he was sensing he was about to undergo now.

"Oh?" Dean asked, pausing in his brushing to look round over one shoulder.

 _Ah, direct eyesight. Now he's really worried_ , thought Sam.

"Do you think she suspects we're not really us?"

"Not really the language for this, is there?" said Sam, chuckling at the words. "But no, I mean, why would she? She's just firmly got your back, is all."

Mollified, Dean finished up and wiped his mouth, turning back to Sam while looking him over with newly opened eyes.

"I gotta say, I think she's wrong. If anything, the opposite's true," said Dean, sounding thoughtful. He stepped nearer and reached up, letting his hands brush along the span of Sam's shoulders, his arms, and across his torso.

Sam submitted to the inspection with amused good grace, even leaning into the touch a little more. He could feel his nostril's flare as they filled with Dean's scent.

Meanwhile, Dean's forehead crinkled just a fraction as if noting a discrepancy as he cataloged and committed Sam's measurements to memory. "Are you having another growth spurt?" he asked, seemingly unaware that his hands were now roaming over Sam's body with increased fervor.

Sam could feel his body responding. He froze fearful of what Dean might say. Or that he might stop.

 _Maybe he could go lower?_ he hoped, feeling a wave of guilt even as he did so.

"Woah, you've been seriously working out," breathed Dean, with a slur to his voice as if he was drunk, or stoned. "Kinda like when you were on that exercise kick-"

"I was _soulless_ ," protested Sam, his feelings offended and breaking the mood.

"Yeah," agreed Dean, stretching out the word into filthiness. "Soulless-you was kinda hot," he sighed absently. "Er, yeah I mean a douche. Soulless-you was a douche," he started to backpedal, seeming to be aware on some level that he'd said something wrong, but the sedated, dreamy expression behind his eyes belied his words.

Only by herculean effort was Sam able to control his breathing and step back from a crestfallen Dean.

Soulless Sam would have taken what he wanted, and Sam wanted it so badly.

_I'll just have to be strong for both of us._

~#~

"Jeez, it's cold," complained Dean, moving over as Sam clambered into their bed, "and now you've stolen all the covers."

"We could always top and tail," offered Sam, deciding not to investigate his feeling of disappointment at that thought.

"What? And have your big feet in my face all night? No thank you."

"You know what they say about big feet," teased Sam, automatically. It was the sort of thing the old Sam would have said to his brother all the time. But it struck him, once again, that here Dean was his _husband_.

 _Just how far do we play this role that fate has given us?_ he wondered.

The air took on a tension and, for a long moment, neither could speak to fill the awkward silence. Sam was achingly aware of Dean's presence even though they weren't touching; it was like another sense.

"Yeah, they stink," answered Dean, and if they both forced a laugh undeserving of the actual joke, neither mentioned it. "I swear you're getting wider," complained Dean. "That's why there's no room."

Cautiously, Sam lifted the arm nearest to Dean and held it aloft. "I guess you could always...?"

Dean paused, an almost fearful yet hopeful look in his eyes. "Okay," he said slowly before sliding himself under Sam's arm and up tight against his torso. He sighed in sheer contentment as Sam's arm came down and cradled around him, one large hand gently resting on his flank. "But only because you're taking up so much space. Also, it's freezing, and you're hot like a freakin' radiator," added Dean cuddling in even closer, his head cushioned by the solid muscle of Sam's chest.

"Whatever you say," soothed Sam in a voice that was more a low rumble than spoken word. Neither of them commented as his hand slowly started to stroke in a firm but gentle pattern up and down Dean's side. The motion was hypnotic in its repetitiveness and, after a while, Sam could feel himself drifting. "You feeling warmer now?" he asked drowsily.

There was no answer, but from the slow sound of his breathing, Sam guessed Dean had long fallen asleep.

His chest swelled with pride and, on impulse, he leaned his head down and placed a kiss on Dean's head, taking the opportunity to breathe in deep the combination of apple-scented shampoo and the underlying hint of something more uniquely Dean.

 _Peace at last_ , he joked to himself, but deep down he knew he'd never felt so happy and content with his life.

~#~

The delivery driver pulled up, stepped down from the cab and looked around the secluded back alley with a shifty, narrow-eyed gaze. "Where's your usual guy? The big alpha?"

Dean frowned at the tone. "He'll be along soon," he lied, resisting the urge to cross and uncross his arms. He wondered fleetingly why he'd stopped carrying a knife.

The guy's nose twitched and he raised an eyebrow at whatever he detected. The smirk that took hold on his face wasn't pleasant. Dean had seen that same look as a prequel to many a bar fight, and he started cataloging his exits.

"You sure you can manage? The barrels are heavy; don't want someone in your condition hurting themselves." The driver hawked and spat and completed the trifecta of grossness by adjusting himself.

"I'll manage just fine," Dean answered, as he started to shift his stance to be ready for attack.

Catching him by surprise, the driver slapped him on the ass, his hand lingering in a rough caress. It hadn't been the type of attack Dean had been expecting, but in retrospect he wondered if perhaps he should have. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to get handsy with him here when Sam wasn't around.

"I bet you can, sweet cheeks. But a fine omega bitch like you, he should take better care."

The man laughed at Dean's outraged expression. "Ah, you're one of those omega-rights types - you just need a proper seeing to. I'm not surprised; your man's obviously not a _real_ alpha if he just lets you wander out and about."

Dean had had enough. He wasn't sure why he'd even taken as much crap as he had. "I'll knock _you_ 'out and about' if you don't get your goddamn hand off my ass," he snarled.

"Make me," the guy growled, his lips pulled back in a feral smile as he tightened his grip on Dean. He seemed possessed.

_Holy shit, that dude is strong._

He was big too, almost as tall as Sam and probably a little wider, even given all the recent bulking up. Dean had always been one for 'swing first and worry about it later,' but he was beginning to fear that the _later_ was about to become _now_. He'd run into far too many similarly iffy situations growing up, and this was quickly looking like it wasn't going to end well for him.

As if in answer to his prayers, the back door to the bar crashed open and with an echoing roar, Sam emerged like a force of nature, his fists flying. He grabbed the driver and flung him away from Dean, sending the man rolling down the alley.

Sam bellowed something after him, but it was too primal to be intelligible.

The man, by now back on his feet, cowed and held his hands up in appeasement. "Okay, okay," he gabled, "but if you're not going to take care of what's yours, then what do you expect?"

Sam sent the guy scurrying off with another deep, animalistic roar.

The next moment Dean was enveloped in a tight bear hug. They weren't very touchy-feely at the best of times, but for once he just let himself go with the flow. _I could get used to this_. He felt swept away in a powerful emotion of comfort and protection. Physically he could feel a pool of warm contentment build up in his abdomen and he abandoned himself to the desire to pull Sam even tighter into him.

"How did you know?" he muttered, grateful beyond words.

Sam shook his head. "Somehow I just knew."

He didn't know how long they stood like that, but in the end he had to gently push Sam away in embarrassment as he realized how horny it was making him. _Which, given what nearly just happened to me here, is one seriously messed up reaction._ Maybe he was still shaky from the adrenaline rush, but his body was buzzing like a damn livewire. Plus, he wasn't sure what was happening, but it all seemed suddenly very damp down there. _Yep, I'm officially as messed up as this world is._

~#~

"I'm just saying that we should think about it," argued Dean, pushing past Sam into their apartment.

Sam sighed and massaged his forehead. He was hot, tired, and apparently now had the makings of a killer headache. He'd been having such a good day too, not to mention the satisfaction of fending off a challenger made him feel powerful, fulfilled even. He had no idea what he could have said or done to incur Dean's irrational wrath.

"But we just got here," Sam answered, as if to a child. "This is our chance for something better and, even better, there's no guilt about retiring from hunting... _because there are no monsters!_ "

"Oh, there are, they're just parading as people," Dean seethed. "I should have known _you_ wouldn't see it."

"What does that even mean?" groaned Sam, "You're not making any sense."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Sam felt panicked. _If he breaks the spell we could end up back in the chimera's lair... miles from anywhere and Dean on the brink of death again_.

"Why won't you talk about it? You're the one that brought it up!"

"I'm going to bed, just leave me alone."

"I live here too, you know," huffed Sam, irritable and ready to lash out either verbally or physically. "If you're so keen to be on your own, why don't you just go stay in a hotel or something?"

"Actually, that's a great idea," Dean said, standing up in a sudden movement. "Thanks a lot," he added sarcastically.

"No," cried Sam, jumping up and grabbing Dean by the arm, already regretting his words. "Hey, I'm sorry," he continued as he took a firmer hold of both of Dean's arms to stop him from leaving. "I'm sorry," he repeated, as much for his earlier words as for the restraining grip that he immediately dropped. He let out a cautious breath as Dean stopped and turned to face him.

"I just can't stand to see you upset," admitted Sam. "I care about you, okay?" He slapped Dean's side in a desperately platonic attempt to seem friendly and non-threatening.

 _Who am I fooling?_ he asked himself despairingly.

"I love you," he corrected in a lower voice, catching Dean's gaze and staring deep into his eyes. This time ensuring there was no mistake as to his intentions.

Their eyes remained locked on each other, Sam desperately searching for some sign while a mix of expressions passed across Dean's features: confusion, fear, hope.

Heart pounding, Sam reached out and gently cradled Dean's face in both hands. His thumb traced a light, sensuous journey over Dean's plump lower lip and across the pleasant rasp of his stubbled cheek, down to the soft flesh of his neck, while the other hand gently guided Dean's head closer and closer. Dean stood stock still never moving to aid this progress, but neither resisting, just passively allowing himself to be controlled.

They moved closer, it seemed inexorably closer. Blood was roaring in his ears, his body aflame with the fierce fire of passion. Yet still they stood, not moving. Locked in orbit of each other.

Finally, Sam could bear it no longer; it was as if the universe released a long-held breath in relief as he took what he wanted, what he could only hope was being silently offered. His hand once more cupping the nape of Dean's neck, he locked lips with him, all the restraint from before was released in a kiss that was near-bruising in its intensity.

Hope wasn't enough. He needed to be sure. Fighting himself to remain in some semblance of control, Sam stopped. He leaned back, studying Dean's face for some sign that his feelings were reciprocated.

Without a word, Dean surged forward and the resulting kiss was even more impassioned, more desperate than before, their hands roving over each other's bodies, pulling each other in tight. They clung to each other, even while fumbling to loosen each other's clothes. Dean guided them backward towards the bedroom. Sam paused for a hairsbreadth of a moment with a hopeful expression until Dean nodded with a grin and pulled him along more urgently.

Dean let out a joyful laugh as he collapsed back on the bed and tugged Sam down on top of him.

Sam pulled off Dean's shirt, running his hand over the exposed flesh. "So beautiful," he muttered worshipfully with a trail of light kisses up Dean's chest, before capturing another longer, deeper kiss.

"I need to get these pants off," complained Dean, fumbling with Sam's belt until with a small cry of frustration he flipped Sam over to swap their positions on the bed.

"So bossy," Sam snorted, wriggling out of his own shirt as he lay back on the bed. He stretched out, flexing his chest and arms, pleased by the encouraging effect it had on Dean. He kicked off his shoes and allowed Dean to rid them both of their jeans.

He noticed with amusement the way Dean's hand shook and nervously avoided Sam's groin, even as the contents of Sam's boxer briefs tented out in an impressively large bulge that strained at the hold of the fabric.

Dean licked his red, cupid bow lips with an anticipation that stripped Sam bare to the bone.

"It's okay," Sam growled. "I'll take care of you," he declared as, with a strong hand, he guided Dean's head and hungry mouth down.

"Whoa, hold on a minute. Something... doesn't look right," stammered Dean, forcing a reluctant halt to the proceedings. "I mean, I've seen you enough times in the shower-"

"Oh yeah? You always liked what you see, huh? Checking me out?"

Dean blushed which stretched from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest. He looked down coyly, but then back up with a direct gaze. "Yes," he admitted, relaxing the intense gaze slightly but not before his eyes roamed over Sam's body, taking it all in. "I mean, you were always packing down there and I was perhaps a little bit jealous."

Sam preened. "You're not so bad yourself." He bit his lip before admitting, "I also watched you in the shower." He made sure the heat behind the meaning of the words couldn't be missed.

Dean ducked his head in a combination of pleasure and embarrassment. "Yeah, but it's like you've had a growth spurt."

"It's this place," agreed Sam. "I think it's changing us."

 _For the better?_ was the unspoken question hanging over them.

"I know," Dean breathed in relief. "You too? I thought I was going mad. I can't stop thinking about you... on me." He swallowed with an audible gulp. " _In_ me." He took a deep breath and said the next words without pausing. "Half the time, I can't even think straight."

Sam sniggered at the double meaning only to turn serious again, "But it's okay, yeah?"

"I've never been happier," Dean smirked. "You could try and see if you could _make_ me happier."

Sam nodded, following along. "Enough talk," he ordered, his voice turning rough and deep.

Dean's body shuddered, and his eyes widened. "You can't tell me what to do, I'm not your bitch," he declared, the former smirk very much back.

They both recognized it for the lie it was.

Dean scooted further back on the bed, losing the remainder of his clothes, and eased back so that he was laid out like a gift for Sam. His eyes hooded as he directed his gaze along his own body back to Sam.

"You can't tell me what to do," he repeated, this time his voice dripping with both great daring and purpose.

Sam paused too long. Dean's lip curled, and he leaned forward to make his point.

"Tell me what to do," he whispered as if giving stage direction, his eyes flashing with just a hint of the heat buried within.

So Sam did. "Lie back down," he barked. He stood and pulled off his boxer briefs with one swift motion, gasping with the pleasure of relief as his cock swung up from its imprisonment within the restraining material. It bobbed in the air between them, each time rising a little higher.

As he towered over Dean, spread out on the bed beneath him, he could honestly say that he'd never felt so powerful and yet so vulnerable in the same moment. He could hear his blood singing in his ears, feel it pounding through his heart and rushing through his veins, his cock pulsing with it. He felt almost sick with an overwhelming lust, and his hands shook as it was all he could do not to just pounce.

Dean deserved better, _he_ deserved better.

Sinking to kneel on the edge of the bed, he slowly crawled up on all fours, covering every inch of Dean with his body, skin sliding against skin.

He captured Dean's wrists in his hands, forcing them back into position above Dean's head, sure he would otherwise go mad from the way Dean writhed beneath him. They locked gazes and so much was silently communicated in that moment: love, trust, desire.

The next moment Sam was flipped over onto his back with one smooth motion and Dean was grinning down at him. "Not to break the mood, but can we get down to the main event? I am seriously... _ready_."

Sam knew Dean. He knew his... _husband_. He recognized that flippant tone for what it really was; nervousness for consummating this new part of their relationship.

He wrapped his arms around Dean, cradling him to one side. "I've got you," he crooned, nuzzling behind Dean's ear as he guided himself into position. Slowly but surely he eased himself in, Dean whining in pleasure as he discovered the extent of the changes to his own body, until they were pressed firmly together. Sam started to thrust, Dean pushing back into him, and while it might lack finesse it was what both of them needed.

He'd never felt so hard, and he almost considered stopping at the unfamiliar extra growth he could feel taking place in his cock. His senses exploded into a white out of pleasure, and all he could do was cling tightly to Dean, who was reaching his own climax.

Finding himself unable to separate, he arranged himself and Dean more comfortably for an extended period of what he decided to name _anatomically-enforced cuddling_. "I think you're stuck with me," he half laughed-half gasped.

Dean pulled him into a deep passionate kiss. "Well, if you think I'm moving you've got another think coming." He sniggered at the last word.

"That was... _intense_ ," panted Sam. He felt like he'd died and been reborn.

"Why'd we wait so long to do this?" Dean mused. "So... you, er, wanna go again?"

~#~

"Thanks so much for having me over, sorry I'm a bit early," said Charlie as Sam let her into the apartment.

"Oh, it's fine, our pleasure, you've been such a good friend to us, and it's nice to get away from the bar for a bit," replied Sam. He broke into a wide grin. "Dean's just in the shower."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, what is it that you can't keep your hands off of each other these days, you pervs."

Her nose wrinkled, "It reeks in here - you're certainly not newlyweds, and you're not even in heat yet, you've got no excuse!" she teased.

Sam went pale as her words took root in his mind. "What?" he stammered. _I knew I should have gotten around to doing more research about this place._

The door to the bedroom opened and Dean stepped through clad only in jeans, still rubbing his hair dry with a towel. "Hey, did you see where I put my nice shirt?" he called, stopping short on noticing Charlie's arrival given his state of semi-undress.

Charlies eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god, what happened to your nipples?" she screamed.

Sam found a twisted humor in the sight of Dean trying to cover up his chest with his towel, only to drop it as he stared down at himself in confusion.

"What's wrong with them?" Dean asked, poking at them. Sam couldn't help but lick his lips as he noticed how they stood pert and erect from the attention.

"You've only got two!" cried Charlie, covering her mouth.

"Well, how many were you expecting?" laughed Dean.

"At least four, maybe as many as eight," replied Charlie in visible shock.

Sam exchanged a bewildered, worried look with Dean. "Charlie, _I_ only have two nipples-"

"Well, of course you do, _you're_ not an omega," she snapped with a disdainful glare. "Listen, do you mind if I talk to Dean alone?"

Behind her, Dean shrugged then gestured with his head in the direction of the other room before tapping one finger on his ear.

Sam nodded to Charlie, "Of course, I'll be in the other room if you need me." From the kitchen he found that his improved senses included better hearing as well as smell; he could hear Charlie sigh as clearly as if she was in the room with him.

"You lied to me." She sounded weary rather than cross. "If you'd been through a heat before then you'd have the evidence of the effect of the hormones to prove it."

"Ah," replied Dean cautiously.

"You have to be careful," warned Charlie, "in this current climate. Especially if your Alpha wants offspring."

"He'd never..." Dean started to argue.

Sam hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.

"But maybe someone else would," Charlie interrupted. "You've lived here for a while now and people _are_ starting to talk."

Sam would have like to be the kind of person who didn't care what people thought, but if a childhood as an outsider had taught him one thing it was that deep down he really _did_ care.

Charlie was still talking. "An omega running a business? It's a fun gimmick, but you know how traditional people get about this sort of thing. Not to mention that you're married and clearly not breeding! What about when you do eventually start to present?"

"Huh?" Dean sounded just as confused as Sam felt.

"Those _illegal_ suppressants I supply you with each month?" Charlie hissed. "You know they'll only work for so long. If you use them too much..."

Sam paled. _Enough of listening in_ , this sounded too important, and he was making an executive decision to put a stop to it.

Charlie gave him a tired look when he came back in, as if the fact that he'd obviously listened in to her private conversation was the least of his betrayal. "Except, he's not taking them, is he? It all makes sense now-"

She addressed the rest of her speech to Dean, but without looking at him. "From the way it reeks in here to how you, and everyone around you, seem to be losing their mind. You've gone cold turkey -- _like I warned you not to_ \-- so your body's been working overtime to make up the pheromones for all those missed heats." Her voice rose as it shook with anger. "And cover up, for goodness sakes, it's kinda grossing me out."

Dean looked stricken as he held up the towel against his chest. "Charlie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, this is all so strange and new to me."

Charlie slumped down in a chair as if the wind had been taken out of her sails. "No, I'm sorry," she said in a low voice filled with shame. "I didn't mean that, you're _not_ gross. You just bring out the big sister in me, and I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt."

She shook her head and gratefully accepted Dean's peace offering of a beer. "Seriously, it's just that recently it feels like you two were both dropped on your heads, or born yesterday, or something."

Sam cleared his throat. "Ah, yeah. About that..."

~#~

Charlie sat with a stunned expression on her face, numbly accepting the extra beer she'd demanded before draining it in one long draught. "A world without alphas or omegas?" she marveled, wiping beer foam from her mouth with the back of one hand. "I kinda find that hard to believe. I mean, where do all the children come from?"

"Women," answered Sam, gesturing at Charlie as if her sex was an alien concept that needed to be explained to her.

"Uh, uh," she declared, shaking her head vigorously. "I'm not having anything banging up against my cervix, thank you very much. Come near me with that big ol' thing, and I'll cut it off, y'hear?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Sam, not doubting a word of it. He couldn't resist catching Dean's gaze with a twinkle in his eye. "Turns out you're not my type anyway."

Charlie frowned, not really hearing him, as she pondered over their story. "That still doesn't make sense to me. So what, everyone just has one child at a time? _No litters?_ Wow, your world must just be so empty of people."

There was a long silence as everyone got lost in their own thoughts.

"So, what are you gonna do?" asked Charlie, at last.

Dean sent Sam a torn, despairing look. "I think we should consider getting back to our own world."

Sam couldn't answer. The longer the silence stretched out in front of him, the more the other two stared at him expectantly and the more his throat closed up.

Charlie stood. "Okay," she said awkwardly, "I think I'm going to leave you two guys to talk."

~#~

Sam watched in avid interest as Dean sauntered over to the refrigerator and leaned in to retrieve a couple more beers. _Seriously, he has an ass to die for_. He winced at the unfortunate word choices of his internal thought processes.

Dean placed one of the beers in front of Sam then, with his free hand, turned one of the kitchen chairs around and straddled it, leaning with both arms draped over the chair's back while he swigged from his beer bottle.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the blatant attempt at dominant body language that missed by a mile, but waited patiently for Dean to speak.

"This place is like an amazing sexual fantasy, but I'm just not sure I can live here twenty-four seven."

"Oh?" Sam said with a deep rumble, getting off on how such a simple word could send a wide-eyed shudder through Dean's body.

Dean's eyes sparkled, and Sam knew for certain the feeling was reciprocated.

"I mean, in the sack I'll _gladly_ do whatever _you_ tell me to do," smirked Dean, "but outside of your kinky ass? Nah, I don't need a bunch of old guys telling me what I can or can't do."

"Femme in the sheets, butch on the streets?" quoted Sam with a smile.

Dean made a production of looking mock-offended. "Well, even _I_ wouldn't put it _that_ crudely, but I guess that's the problem of the influence of this world on you. _On us_. We need to get away from this place!"

"Surely it's not all bad?" asked Sam with an unconvincing attempt at a leer.

" _Really?_ After everything Charlie said? Look at how she and I are treated? Is _this_ what you want?" asked Dean.

"Hell, no! I always considered myself to be respectful of women... and omegas, I guess," complained Sam.

"Said like a true _incel_ ," Dean snorted under his breath.

The slur touched a nerve, and Sam was caught unawares by the level of his anger that bubbled over into spite. "Really? How's it feel to be the oppressed minority for a change?"

"It sucks," complained Dean with feeling. He seemed to notice Sam's sudden discomfort. "What?" he demanded.

"I'm hard," admitted Sam. "Don't blame me, not when you're all het up and looking like _that_. I have needs!"

"Right, that's it, _Mr. Feminist_. We need to get the hell outta here, _now_ ," declared Dean.

Sam closed his eyes. "It's not that simple," he blurted. "When I made that wish... you were _dying_..."

It was like a weight had been lifted from him as the truth that he'd been carrying for months was now finally revealed. He opened his eyes to find them streaming with tears. Dean pulled him into a warm, solid embrace and held him tight. It felt good to just let go, to be comforted, and Sam allowed himself to lean further in.

"Y'know," Dean rumbled, rubbing Sam's back with one hand and petting his hair comfortingly with the other, "You're the best damn _husband_ ever... in the whole world, even. But just because your shoulders are freakishly wide doesn't mean you have to carry the load all by yourself."

Recognizing the words from before, Sam snuffled and wiped at his eyes. "You _knew_ , all this time," he accused. "I thought you were so out of it that you didn't remember. Why didn't you say something?"

Dean shrugged. "When you didn't bring it up, I assumed the spell had somehow wiped your memory. I didn't want to worry you!"

"What a fine pair we are," declared Sam with a dry laugh. From the depths of his pocket, he retrieved the magic pearl that he'd superstitiously taken to keeping close to him at all times. He stared deep within it as if it could divulge the secrets of the universe. "Do you think this was all some kind of cosmic lesson?"

"With our track record, anything's possible. But yeah, given that here we're husbands, I feel like the universe is trying to tell us we're meant to be an _equal_ partnership. It feels _right_ , yeah?" Dean waited to catch Sam's eye and his nod of agreement. "So if there's also something here that's a threat to that, then maybe this isn't the right place for us. Whatever awaits us, we'll get through it _together_."

Sam let out a shaky breath. "You know, you're pretty smart sometimes."

"I know," Dean grinned. "And you're pretty, what a great team we make."; He took the pearl from Sam and laid it on the floor.

"You don't have to always take care of me," he said as he took Sam's hands in his own.

Sam stamped down hard on the pearl.

**THE END**

(;,;)


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